


Dreaming of S(omething)

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson)



Category: Dreaming of Sunshine - Silver Queen, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, How Shikako and Gaara Make It Work (And Sometimes Don't)</p><p>(Loosely related, recursive ficlets of Silver Queen's Dreaming of Sunshine. originally posted on tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreaming of S(erenity)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dreaming of Sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/53648) by Silver Queen. 



Shikako had been born with chakra hyper-sensitivity; had always been able to sense chakra, in people, in plants, in the very air. There’s an official diagnosis in her medical records–then again, there’s a lot of things in her medical records that aren’t exactly normal.

A person with chakra hyper-sensitivity shouldn’t have been able to become a shinobi. Then again, shinobi aren’t supposed to be able to fight without chakra, and it’s been years since she’s proved both of those wrong to pretty much the entire world. She’s fairly famous, one could say; or infamous, depending on which village’s bingo book is used.

Ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu, fuinjutsu. Her skills are quite impressive, and yet never enough for her, the rare Nara born with motivation. Which is why she wants to add senjutsu to the mix.

One would think that, with the chakra hyper-sensitivity, she would already be halfway there. And from one angle, that would be true. She can already sense the natural chakra around her, the living energy in things that aren’t always considered alive, but that doesn’t mean she can use it.

Far from it, in fact.

This isn’t something that many people know, isn’t something considered critical, wouldn’t be mentioned in her biography if ninja were even the kind of people who let biographies be written about them. But it’s not a secret. Due to her chakra hyper-sensitivity, Shikako almost didn’t become a shinobi.

In order to do so, she had to control her sensor abilities, had to reign it back, had to numb herself. Before, chakra burned in her lungs, and even after she turned it down she still had perfect chakra control.

So opening herself up to try senjutsu? It was like blasting away not only the doors but the walls and windows, too. There was so much, too much. She felt helpless and vulnerable.

The Sand assignment was a blessing.

Shikako as the Konoha ambassador to Sand just made sense. Shikako more than anyone had the most faith in the Sand-Leaf alliance, because she already knew it would work. It could even be argued that she was the reason for the alliance, a moment of mercy becoming the foundation for friendship.

And, even though she was the only one who knew it, Akatsuki going after Gaara was the beginning of the end. Being in Sand meant she could make a difference early enough and immediately; or at least give her the opportunity to try. For Shikako, the Sand assignment really was ideal.

Don’t get her wrong, she’s a Konoha girl through and through; she’ll always feel safest surrounded by a forest. But forests mean trees and animals and so many people, so many chakra signatures blaring away at her senses, the air thick with moisture and energy and life.

In comparison, the desert is simpler. There’s life but it’s not cloying and heavy and suffocating. It’s not a flock of birds overhead and the Aburame kikai colonies and the Hashirama trees looming above everything. In the desert, life is parsed down and cleaner; easier to handle.

And on the rare occasions when even that gets too much? Well, then there’s Gaara.

* * *

The thing is, despite being Konoha’s ambassador to Sand, she doesn’t really interact very much with Gaara on a day to day basis. Frankly, she doesn’t have many responsibilities as an ambassador, certainly nothing that requires the Kazekage’s personal attention.

Anything that she does end up needing to do she actually just goes and talks to Kankurou–he’s the Kazekage’s brother, so he is important, but he’s not technically ranked all that high in the administrative structure, so she’s not interrupting anything vital. Which works out just fine for her.

Temari was sent as a show of trust and because she actually has the political clout to make decisions on the treaty. Shikako was sent as a show of strength… on paper–a recent special jounin who has already proven she could put up a decent fight against their Kazekage. But in practice? She’s a show of trust, too. And, to be honest, the assignment basically is a training trip and guard duty combined. Shikako always was more fond of multi-tasking than her teammates.

So Shikako spends her days hanging around Kankurou, trying not to melt in the desert heat while training, probably playing too much Igo with Ebizo-jiisama, and occasionally acting as the Konoha ambassador she’s actually meant to be.

At night is when she tries to make progress on senjutsu. And fails.

And that’s when she goes to Gaara.

Not every night, no, not even every time she fails. But sometimes. Sometimes when her nerves feel scraped raw, when her chakra coils feel jittery and close to snapping, and when it’s like she can hear the entire village breathing in her ears. That’s when she goes to him.

He doesn’t sleep, of course, but that doesn’t mean he spends his nights doing nothing. He’s the leader of an entire shinobi village–he has more than enough on his plate to keep him busy. But whether by coincidence or design, whenever she needs him there’s never anyone else there, he’s never too busy for her.

It makes it easier to go to him. To stand in the moonlight and say please. To let him engulf her in sand. To let herself sink into the quiet, into the dark.

It’s different than when she used to wake up from nightmares, retreating into herself and hiding. It’s not running away, it’s rejuvenation. When everything is too much, too overwhelming–the natural chakra and the future and her past and all the expectations she piles on herself–she knows she’s safe in the sand. It’s peaceful, a buffer between her and her troubles so she can breathe and think. 

And somehow, Gaara always knows just how long is long enough. Knows when to pull back his sand and set her back on her feet. He always looks surprised, but he always knows. And she smiles at him, soft and honest, because he is one of the few people she can still be soft and honest with.

* * *

Konoha doesn’t really have the best experience with ambassadors, so Shikako’s position is pretty much whatever she makes of it. So she makes it adaptable. She does spend most of her time in the Hidden Sand, but occasionally there will be requests for her to do a mission–the perils of having made a name for herself during her chuunin exam–and she’ll be called back.

She doesn’t practice senjutsu outside of Sand. And that’s okay. She always has something else to do, some next project to begin, to keep moving forward. There are friends to reconnect with, to spar against, to collaborate with. The missions are the usual, exciting for whoever her temporary squad mates are, but run of the mill for her–especially with Lucky Seven’s karma split into three, she hasn’t been ambushed by outranking missing-nin in ages–but they still take time.

By the time she’s done, when she returns to Hidden Sand, it’s been two months.

She doesn’t restart her senjutsu training right away, it was a long journey and she’s looking forward to a good night’s rest. So she’s not expecting to see Gaara until later in the week, in her official capacity as ambassador.

But that evening Gaara shows up at her door, hesitant, bearing a still steaming tea set as an offering.

“Oh,” she says inanely, then retrieves some scraps of politeness from wherever they hid, “Hello, Gaara… Would you like to come in?” She steps to the side, so he can pass through the doorway.

They both stand awkwardly in the lounge area of her inn room, staring at each other with wide-eyed confusion. The tea set is placed on the low table, a somewhat frivolous use of his sand, but Gaara’s sand has always been a part of him; it’s no different than him using his hands.

“So…” She begins uncertainly, pulling her braid forward to fiddle with the end. The tips of her hair has an unpleasant, crunchy sensation–split ends, she should trim them.

“Please,” Gaara says, and at first she is confused because that is all he says, but in slow obvious movements his sand approaches her and he repeats, “Please.”

She inhales sharply at the unspoken request.

Shikako had never thought that Gaara would need those moments just as much as she did. Had never considered what Gaara might get out of those nights. She went to him for silence and serenity and in return, all along, she had been showing him trust.

Who else would let a previously psychopathic demon container trap them in their greatest weapon? Who else would willingly do so, would ask to do so? Who else believed that he was more than just a crazed killer, believed that he would be not just great but also good and kind?

She nods.

Ever so gently the sand begins to engulf her, inching its way up from the ground, like a cat twining around her ankles. It covers her legs and begins to make it’s way up her arms, loosely held at her sides, but stops at her wrists.

“You’re scared,” Gaara says, brow furrowed, his own hands up as if to pull the sand away. No doubt sensing her hammering heartbeat and misinterpreting.

“No,” she contradicts, “I’m nervous,” she admits, “but not scared.” She stares at him, wills him to believe her, because she’s telling the truth.

After a full, weighty pause, he nods, and the sand resumes it’s trek upwards. When it reaches her shoulders, she says, apologetically, “I might fall asleep.” Because she is really very tired.

Gaara’s sand pauses once more.

“Just… if I fall asleep and you need to go do something else, just put me in my bed. It’s okay.” She jerks her head casually at the door separating the sleeping area from the lounge.

Something almost like bemusement curls along his lips, before she closes her eyes. Soon enough, all of her senses are smothered. Her heartbeat slows, her thoughts slow.

She is at peace.


	2. Dreaming of S(alvation)

Shikabane-hime. The corpse princess. As much for the bodies of her enemies she leaves behind on her missions as for the multiple times she’s flatlined then been resuscitated.

If it weren’t for the Edo Tensei, she’d be the closest thing to a zombie this world had. As it is, well, she’s definitely the closest thing to a Time Lord they have. Minus the extra heart, the sonic screw driver, and the time machine. Maybe she’s Captain Jack Harkness instead. Though she’s getting off track.

Shikabane-hime. A joke. A warning. A prophecy.

So what if she doesn’t have the near-Tsunade levels of medical knowledge like Sakura did in canon–does in real life, now that this is real life. Shikako knows seals, knows chakra, knows death.

Gaara is the first jinchuuriki that the Akatsuki go after, she knows this. She’s been planning for this, been studying and training for this. Even if she can’t stop them from ripping the Shukaku out of him, she’s not going to let him die.

Not for long, anyway.


	3. Dreaming of S(illiness)

“I’m just saying, maybe it’s a good thing you weren’t born as triplets,” Kankurou says out of the blue, as if in conclusion to a conversation that Shikako does not remember having.

“What?” She asks, thoroughly confused.

“Your brother, my sister,” he says, painted face stretching into an exaggerated smirk, “You and my brother,” he adds.

“What?” Shikako repeats inanely. Ebizo-jiisama, from his seat across the goban, snorts loudly in amusement.

“Then again,” Kankurou continues as if she hadn’t said anything at all, “You’re not bad looking, Sparky.”

At that, she finally gets it, and her confusion reduces. Now she just has to decide whether to play along or smack him.

Well, Kankurou is her friend. And with the way Ebizo-jiisama keeps guffawing, he hardly gets such entertainment.

“But what if our triplet looked more like Shikamaru?” She asks, completely straight-faced.

Kankurou’s face, in response, crumples and twists.

“Temari certainly finds him appealing enough,” she says with a wry grin, “Though maybe it’s not his face that–”

“I don’t need to hear this!” Kankurou yelps, and Ebizo-jiisama has near fallen over from the strength of his laughter.

“I was going to say that Shikamaru is very smart, we Nara have sharp minds, you know? I don’t know what you were thinking.”


	4. Dreaming of S(isters, the long lost past edition)

She had a sister, Before. She hardly ever thinks about Before, but she occasionally remembers her sister. It aches to think of her and she tries not to think too much of the past–the past of an entirely different world–but it’s a bittersweet kind of pain.

They were close–she knows not all siblings are, though she personally hasn’t had that experience–but a sister is different than a twin brother, even if they had similar personalities, which they don’t, and she misses it sometimes.

With Shikamaru, well, before she used to make fun of the use of twin bonds in media. Or at least the myth that there was a supernatural reason for twins to be so close as to know what the other was thinking–as opposed to that just being a natural consequence of literally sharing the first two decades of your life together.

But there is something between twins that isn’t the same as with non-twin siblings–with Shikamaru she doesn’t have to say things to communicate with him. It isn’t quite on the level of being one mind in two bodies, but rather two hands working in tandem for a common goal. She doesn’t have to explain herself… or, well, she used to not have to explain herself. And because she never had to, she finds it difficult to start.

But with her sister… This wouldn’t have been a problem Before. Because she and her sister were the kind of close where they told each other everything. Even the embarrassing stuff that the other wishes they hadn’t heard; it was easy.

Her sister had been sibling and best friend all at once and Shikako knows that she has Shikamaru now–has Ino and Sakura, has Naruto and Sasuke, and all of the Konoha Twelve–but it’s not the same and she misses her. The sister from a world to which she can’t return.

The sand cocoon around her withdraws, and Shikako blinks her eyes open to the dim, star-and-moonlit office of the Kazekage and said Kazekage’s vaguely dismayed face.

“This isn’t working,” Gaara says, voice low, brow furrowed and staring–he always stares, “You’re crying.”

“I- Sorry,” she stutters, because she doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea. It’s not–she’s not crying because of him it’s just that. She wipes at her face, tears quickly absorbed by her sleeves, “I don’t know what. I just-”

“Stay here,” he says and it’s not a demand but it’s not quite a request either. She could leave, he wouldn’t be angry if she did, but he expects her to stay.

So she does. Sitting on the couch lined up along the wall. She thinks about the difference between Gaara’s office and Tsunade-sama’s, how Tsunade’s hardly has much besides her desk and chair and some shelves while Gaara’s has that plus a couch and additional chairs and a low table. It’s welcoming, and maybe from the outset it doesn’t really match him, but it makes sense. Because he wants people to be comfortable around him. He wants to show his people that he can be more than just a weapon.

He comes back with a tea tray, sets it on the low table as he seats himself across from her.

He stares, and she pats at her face one last time to make sure she’s caught every tear. Something inside of her curls up, curls away, and she hates it because she knows Gaara is going to ask her what’s wrong and she won’t be able to tell him because for all that they’ve grown close she hasn’t told anyone about being reborn and she hates that he’ll just be another person who she has to keep secrets from.

Instead he says, “For the longest time, I thought Shukaku was my mother.”

She freezes. She knew that, knows that, but it’s one thing to remember his crazed screaming as a child and to hear him confess it so calmly.

“It was… the only person, the only being that couldn’t leave me and I thought that meant it couldn’t betray me either…” and he talks. He talks as if–no, he does acknowledge she’s there, he’s obviously talking to her–but he talks as if he doesn’t expect her to say anything back. Because he doesn’t need her to; he doesn’t need her to be his emotional support because this is for her benefit, this is for her comfort.

It’s not the same–a deceiving bijuu pretending to be his mother is not the same as a sister she will never be able to speak to again–but it helps. He is literally sympathizing with her. He lost someone, too, and even if it wasn’t the truth, he can never go back to the way things were either.

And… it helps. It’s not the nonverbal connection she has with Shikamaru, not the effortless exchange she had with her sister, but it’s intimacy and vulnerability. And it works.


	5. Dreaming of S(tories)

It takes a while, for the people of Sand to see Shikako as anything more than the personification of Konoha’s overbearing meddling. And an insulting one at that–a single little girl? Not even a full team. Then again, no doubt if Konoha had sent a full team, they’d be accused of being overly hostile.

Ugh, politics.

But after that, they grow to be–not accustomed, and definitely not fond–resigned to her presence… It varies by generation.

The Nara clan jutsu traditionally aren’t seen as much of a threat in the Land of Wind, the scorching sun and mostly flat environment creating a distinct lack of shadows. During the shinobi world wars, members of the Nara clan were utilized more in the north–against Lightning or Stone–the mountainous landscape providing advantageous, rocky outcroppings.

Simply put, the Nara don’t have much of a reputation in the Land of Wind, not historically anyway, and the elderly generation don’t know what to make of her. Minus Ebizo-jii-sama, of course, who mostly views her as a decent opponent in Igo who also provides unintended entertainment.

Those of active mission-taking age, are very aware of who she is and what she can do. Even if she hadn’t made a pretty damn impressive showing against their Kazekage during the Chuunin Exams which essentially gave Gaara the position, she’s in the bingo books. And as Konoha’s allies, Sand gets a more accurate portrayal of her skills than, say, Rock’s version.

On top of that, Shikako has no qualms about training where others can see her. She frequently spars against Kankurou who is practically slated to take over the Puppet Corps in a few years, and he’s almost as bad as Kiba when it comes to loudly retelling what he calls ‘Sparky moments’. Like that time she blew up an attempted kidnapper’s head.

God, she’s never going to live that down.

The kids, though, even the ones who aren’t all that much younger than she is, they think she’s… fascinating. Though she attributes that more towards her status as a novelty than anything else. What’s odd, though, is how it started.

The first time wasn’t an accident, but it certainly wasn’t planned, either. Unlike the Sand siblings’ second trip to Konoha, she wasn’t placed in the academy as an assistant teacher. If it weren’t for the fact that the children actively seek her out, Shikako wouldn’t even have the opportunity to interact with them. And now?

“Heh, looks school’s done for today,” Kankurou laughs, Karasu pulling back, blades retreating into it’s wooden interior. Likewise, she sheathes her practice tanto, cringing at the near inaudible scraping noise that let’s her know that sand has gotten in. She’ll have to clean the both sword and sheathe properly before she goes to bed tonight.

Along the demarcated edges of the training grounds, a huddle of maybe ten or so Academy-aged kids await. She waves at them, a little flattered and a lot embarrassed when they cheer enthusiastically back.

“Don’t keep your adoring audience waiting, Sparky,” Kankurou jokes, replacing a wrapped up Karasu on his back.

“You’re not going to join us?” Shikako asks, slyly, “They’ll be your fellow puppeteers soon, shouldn’t you go impress them now while they’re still young?”

“Ugh, no way, I did my time. I don’t want to hang around a bunch of brats. And plus, it’s your fancy shadow stuff they want to see,” he grumbles before, effectively, fleeing and leaving her to the mercies of the tiny horde of tiny bunraku ninja-to-be.

“Nee-san,” one of them calls out, waving her arms and likewise making her small practice puppet wave it’s arms in sync. Her peers are engaging their own practice puppets in mock fights, very similar to the spar she and Kankurou just ended. It takes hardly anything at all to do the same with a modified Shadow Gathering Technique. And anyway, it’s good practice for her. The kids ooh and ah at the way the shadows seem to spring to life.

“Nee-san,” the ringleader repeats, equally amazed, but trying to stay on track, “You said today you’d do one of your stories.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Shikako replies, channeling her inner Kakashi, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather Akako and the Wolf?” One of the other kids brightens in obvious excitement. He had been the one absolutely enamored by last week’s Little Red Riding Hood adaptation, one that Shikako thinks the Inuzuka would approve of considering it has the little girl and the wolf team up against the big bad hunter. Already, the little boy has modified his practice puppet into one resembling a four-legged creature in contrast to the others’ humanoid shapes.

“You already showed us that one!” The little girl says, “We want to hear about the Ikioi-en!” and around her the other kids nod and chatter in agreement.

Shikako tries not to look too baffled, but clearly something slips because another kid mentions, “Kankurou-sama said you were there when the Dead Wastes became the Ikioi-en.”

At that, she has two immediate reactions: Oh. That mission.

And then: not hanging around a bunch of brats her ass.

“It’s a pretty long story,” she tries to demur, though in her head she’s already trying to figure out the best way to arrange it both for age-appropriateness and maximum entertainment.

“The best ones are,” the ringleader says magnanimously, “You can do Act One today and then the other Acts later.”

“Oh, I can?” Shikako asks, pointedly, tone teasing, which causes the little girl to flush.

“Please, Nee-san,” she amends, which sends the rest of them into a wave of pleading.

Shikako can’t help the chuckle that escapes, and she gives in easily enough. Though she does exaggeratedly examine the sky, as if calculating, “We’ll have to go to the east side of the administrative building,” she says sagely, and the kids follow after her and nod to each other. She grins when she hears their high voices speculating about the decision–obviously since the sun sets in the west, the east side of the building would have bigger shadows. And everyone knows that the administrative building is the tallest in the village.

In truth, though, she almost always does her shadow shows near the administrative building. She knows Gaara enjoys the children being close by, even if, for the most part, they’re still too frightened to approach him directly. Sometimes, she thinks he enjoys the stories, too.

Then, sensing Kankurou’s chakra next to Gaara’s bright and steady presence, she muffles a laugh. She guesses they both do, though why Kankurou bothered with subterfuge escapes her–she already knows he’s a theatre nerd.


	6. Dreaming of S(tarlight)

They won.

Shikako breathes, body trembling from a lack of chakra, but at least she’s still standing.

Oh, wait, no, there go her knees.

At least she’s still conscious.

Through her wavering vision she can see the pink of Sakura’s hair, bending over the prone bodies of Naruto and Sasuke. They’re beaten and bruised and bloody, but they’re alive. They’re all alive.

And they won.

She breathes.

* * *

_The light from far away stars are years, centuries, millennia old; signals from a past that no longer exist._

* * *

“Shikako,” someone says, slowly stepping towards her.

She senses it more than she hears–eardrums blown from the percussive waves of explosions–but she recognizes it all the same.

Warmth and calm and safety.

She says nothing, can’t say anything, just focuses on breathing–inhale, exhale–we won, we’re alive, we won, we’re alive.

He doesn’t repeat himself, doesn’t reach out to touch her, doesn’t cradle her into a cocoon of sand. She can’t be seen as weak here. Not here, in front of these strangers made allies. Not now, when victory could so easily edge one way or another into war or peace.

He steps closer and waits and that is enough.

* * *

_The stars are always shining, but it’s only when the sun goes down that they can finally be seen._

* * *

She breathes and she shakes and slowly, carefully, she stands.

She is not the jinchuuriki of the strongest bijuu. She is not the last wielder of an unstoppable bloodline. She is not the reincarnation of two mythical brothers.

But she is as much of a sage as her teammates. She is the embodiment of shadows. She has refused death time and time again. She was born Shikako Nara but she has always been more than that.

She is a living, breathing, impossibility.

She stands–because they are alive and they have won, but that doesn’t mean it’s over–and she speaks.

* * *

_What is the sun but the nearest and brightest star?_

* * *

**_(omake)_ **

“That was well said,” Kakashi-sensei says, as she is finally wrangled into a field medic’s tent by a wild-eyed Sakura.

She looks over at him, is so selfishly glad that this specific death is one that she prevented, and shoots him a lop-sided grin, “Yay, chakra exhaustion buddies,” she cheers, tiredly.

“No, not yay!” Sakura scolds, slapping a paralysis tag on Shikako so her chakra doesn’t deplete itself entirely with detrimental shivering. Shikako hates it–despite having had a hand in creating it, or maybe because of that.

“Maa, she’s such a bad influence, don’t you think Sakura-chan?” Kakashi grins back, getting a paralysis tag slapped on him as well for good measure.

“Please, stop talking,” Sakura requests because the tags don’t cover all movements and speaking was deemed a necessary function. But she has mastered Tsunade’s civilly threatening bedside manner, and so both of the conscious members of Team Seven shut up.

For a few moments, anyway.

“Writing your own future, huh?” Kakashi quotes, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

Shikako blushes–or would blush, if she had enough blood in her body to do so, before smiling shyly at her sensei.

“Do you know what you’ll write in yours?” He asks, and she feels a giggle bubble out of her.

“I can honestly say, I have no idea what the future holds.”


	7. Dreaming of S(ilence)

It’s a week of tension and hesitance. A week of no senjutsu. A week of no nighttime sessions of calm and quiet and dark. The strange thing about fighting with Gaara–arguing, more like, given the lack of action. Though, given the lack of words, does arguing work either?–is the absence.

Shikako has never considered their relationship–whatever it might be–as something loud, something full and bursting with energy. It’s not butterflies in her belly or fire in her blood; not screaming and laughing and crying, noise and desperation and passion.

It’s trust and peace and contentment. It’s the feel of fingers gently running through her unbound hair, a line of warmth along her side matching shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee. It’s sharing breaths and sharing space and thinking, yes I like you here you can stay, because she never had to say it. (And maybe it’s just a little bit butterflies in her belly, too).

So yes, their relationship is more silence than not. But there are different kinds of silence and she hates whatever type this one is, this suffocating silence that’s been pressing down on her the past week.

* * *

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Kankurou mutters in disbelief when Shikako utterly fails to even retaliate during their spar. All she’s been doing is dodging which–okay, agility practice for Karasu was helpful the first few days, but by day nine it gets pretty boring–isn’t how he wants to spend the rest of their time. “You’re not even trying anymore!” He complains.

Her expression twists–somehow both indignant and apologetic at once–before she sighs, lungs and frustration deflating, leaving her looking kind of… wilted.

Kankurou gives a sigh of his own–exasperated, because this is ridiculous–before saying, “This has gone on for way too long, Sparky. Normally I want nothing to with whatever is between the two of you but something is obviously wrong.”

Rather than take the invitation, Shikako looks away, but Kankurou really can’t take it anymore. His sparring partner may as well be as lifeless as the puppet he wields.

“I can’t believe I have to be the one to tell a Leaf nin to talk about their feelings, but come on. If you don’t talk to me, then talk to someone. It doesn’t have to be Gaara, but I don’t know why you’d go to Ebizo-jiisama for advice on your love life.”

Shikako snorts, before smacking a hand over her face to ineffectively muffle the laughter that follows.

Kankurou smirks with success.

* * *

Shikako goes to Gaara’s office, sits on the very comfortable couch, and waits. She waits for a very long time. He knows she’s there, obviously, his pale green gaze glancing at her between the meetings Jinzo schedules for him, but he doesn’t acknowledge her otherwise.

Then again, he also doesn’t make her leave even when Councilor Odo bristles at her presence and demands he do so. Instead, Gaara stares blankly until the councilor remembers just who he’s addressing and stammers apologies. Oddly enough, Jinzo–who hates Odo only slightly less than the Hyuuga who shredded his chakra coils–is the one who comes to the rescue and redirects the conversation.

Anyway, he knows she’s waiting for him, but of course their relationship isn’t more important than the livelihood of his village, and so he continues with his duties as Kazekage. It’s fine. She has a notebook to keep her occupied, and when Jinzo brings refreshments for Gaara, he sets a second tray in front of her as well.

The hours march on in a different sort of silence–for all that he spends them talking to a multitude of people–until finally the meetings peter out and even Jinzo goes home for the night. It’s likely there will be an incident of some sort that requires the Kazekage, but until then, Gaara’s attention is hers.


	8. Dreaming of S(ake)

“You never sleep?” Shikako asks one night, mind calmed and cleared after a session in the sand cocoon. It makes her braver or, more likely, less concerned about manners; she’s basically cuddling the Kazekage, such a thing would require bravery and rudeness both.

Gaara’s hand in her hair stills, briefly, before resuming its path across her scalp. “I doze, sometimes,” he says, pausing as if to better articulate his thoughts, “I’m told it’s more of a meditative state than actual sleep, though.”

Shikako hums, part acknowledgement part contentment.

“When I was younger, I used to be able to sleep for short amounts of time before…” he trails off. Before Shukaku would take over, he doesn’t need to say, “After that, I was trained in ways to stay awake.”

“How old were you then?” She asks, already reaching for his free hand to intertwine their fingers.

“Four years old.”

* * *

Their conversation ends at that, though they remain curled together on the sofa for an hour more, before one of the Sand ANBU equivalents comes to the office and Gaara must resume his duties as Kazekage.

It sticks with her, though, a glimmering shard of thought not quite distracting her but definitely tugging at her attention throughout the day. Not so much the tragedy of it, as coldhearted as that might be, but rather the implications that come from it.

If Gaara used to be able to sleep as a child, when people’s strength of will are raw and untrained, then that means there was something else preventing Shukaku from taking over. Some part of his jinchuuriki seal that protected him as a toddler but could not anymore as he grew. Something that had weakened or degraded over the course of three years.

Something she might be able to fix.

But she holds on to that idea for a little while longer. She doesn’t have enough information yet.

* * *

 

Technically, she shouldn’t have access to this information–despite the alliance, she’s still distinctly a Konoha nin– but, well, it’s not like she’s reading a file she shouldn’t. She’s just plying the Elders of Suna with alcohol in hopes that they’ll be willing to answer her questions.

“Our livers are going to rot and it’s all your fault,” Kankurou hisses at her, before downing another saucer of sake at Chiyo-baa-sama’s demand.

“You’re the one who wanted free booze,” Shikako shoots back between gritted teeth, a parody of a smile as she also throws back a saucer of her own. Ebizo-jii-sama has not stopped laughing for the past ten minutes.

“This is a terrible plan,” he adds, yet again, before steeling himself for another round.

She doesn’t respond because she already knows that, but like hell she’s going to agree out loud. Especially not where the elderly siblings can hear it.

It’s not that she thought she could outdrink and trick answers out if them. She knows better than that, Sakura’s almost haunted look as she told the kunoichi group about Tsunade-sama’s drinking habits and Jiraiya-sama’s own ridiculous competence while intoxicated has taught Shikako better than that. But she figured free sake would make them, if not pliant, then pleased enough to indulge her questions.

Instead she is going to die of liver poisoning. Well, at least Kankurou is going down with her.

* * *

Three hours and an unspeakable number of empty sake bottles later, Shikako has joined Ebizo-jii-sama with giggling of her own. She doesn’t know what she’s laughing at, just that it’s very funny.

“And then I said. I said to myself. And I said to Temari. I said,” Kankurou rambles, cheeks flushed red, “I… What was I saying?”

Shikako bursts into another fit of giggles, the elderly siblings adding cackling of their own. Their poor, patient server looks utterly resigned with life; Shikako has to remember to give him a big tip.

“Chiyo, Ebizo,” a low voice says, just the smallest hint of amusement overtop the monotone.

And now the server looks a strange mixture of relieved and nervous.

“Hey! It’s Gaara!” Kankurou shouts, completely unnecessarily, “I was telling them about. I was saying. I said…” He looks around confused, as if the rest of his sentence would reveal itself to him, “Gaara’s here, Sparky!” He announces instead.

“Kankurou,” Gaara nods at his brother, a small curve edging onto his mouth, “Shikako.”

“Gaara’s here, Theater Nerd,” she agrees with Kankurou solemnly.

“And Baki,” he adds.

“Yes, and Baki,” she repeats. They both laugh.

“The two of you can take care of these drunks,” Chiyo-baa-sama doesn’t ask, just states as fact.

“Kids these days just don’t know how to handle alcohol,” Ebizo-jii-sama shakes his head, “Though for a Leaf nin, I guess she did well enough.”

As the two Elders stand to leave, Chiyo-baa-sama affectionately slaps Kankurou upside the head and tugs on Shikako’s braid. “We’ll have training tomorrow morning, brat. As for you, Leaf, I’ll answer your questions then. If you show up, that is. But I’m sure you two can handle a measly hangover,” she cackles before leaving with her brother.

The first smidgeon of doom trickles through their inebriated minds. They turn to each other.

“We’re going to die for real, Sparky,” Kankurou whispers–or tries to, it ends up more like shouting.

Shikako hides behind her braid. Unsurprisingly, it is ineffective.

They laugh again.

“Please, Kazekage-sama, Baki-san,” the server says, desperate, as if it were his dying wish, “Please take them away.”

Impassive, Baki picks up his ex-student in a fireman’s carry, before disappearing in a blur of speed–combining Kankurou’s transportation with his punishment. Very efficient, Baki.

Shikako says as much. Gaara, thankfully, is far more gentle with her; the two of them sitting on a platform of sand, him carefully holding her so she doesn’t fall off.

By the time they get to her inn, she’s already halfway asleep. Thankfully, this isn’t the first time he’s put her to bed, and likely it won’t be the last.

“Stay,” Shikako mumbles, grabbing his sleeve. Her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see Gaara hesitate. He doesn’t sleep, but he settles beside her soon enough.


	9. Dreaming of S(hade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This is an AU within this AU)

To burn so brightly means to burn out faster. Konoha has witnessed this before, has seen the Will of Fire be twisted into madness or smothered by death. Prodigies are admired or reviled but, either way, they are watched–there is something mesmerizing about a crash and burn.

But Suna is different, they endure. They live through scorching days and freezing nights and know that the sun is dangerous in either extremes but, ultimately, life-giving. Moderation, patience, endurance. That is the way of Suna.

* * *

We lose something to the void. Every time a Nara uses their shadow, even for something as small as the Shadow Paralysis, we lose something.

For small jutsu, for those easily controlled, it is always something that can be lost. Chakra, mostly, a good night’s sleep or a lack of calm, other times. But those are just casualties of being a shinobi, the consequences of being a trained killer.

For bigger uses, though, the costs also increase. Exponentially. We lose ourselves: Our emotions, for a time. Or our resolve to be a ninja. Or even, in extreme cases, the will to live.

Our bloodline is a bargain, our affinity an exchange. We sacrifice to the void and in return we receive strength

What my daughter did should have been impossible. Or, at the very least, it should have killed her.

It doesn’t matter how changed she is now, how broken or diminished or unbalanced others think of her. I am glad she survived.

Shikako has paid much to the void; but she is the only Nara who has ever demanded a refund.

* * *

It began with a stray thought.

There was a mission and a cave so deep that, even though the sun was out, she had to rely on her sensor ability to move around, let alone fight.

Technically, wasn’t the darkness of the cave merely the shadow of the mountain?

It didn’t amount to anything then–a battle was not the time to be experimenting with shadow jutsu. But some part of her filed it away for later, and in the back of her mind, that thought grew even more perilous:

Isn’t nighttime simply the shadow of the planet?

* * *

The problem with being the leader in the field of medicine is that if Konoha can’t heal something then the matter is deemed incurable.

But Shikako’s state isn’t something that can be fixed with the careful application of chakra, can’t be contained with seals, or soothed by the Yamanaka mind arts. It’s not something that should be left alone and monitored from a distance. She shouldn’t be put out to pasture, so to speak, like other Nara who have pushed too far; as much a skittish forest creature as the deer which make up their clan’s livelihood.

No, she deserves better than that. Even if she’s not the same Shikako who believed in Naruto at every step, or guided Sasuke down the right path, or supported her friends when they faltered. Even if she’s not the sister Shikamaru grew up with, she deserves better.

* * *

If anyone knows about madness–the kind of insanity that screams and tears and bites away at oneself, the kind of lunacy that waxes with the sun and wanes with the stars, the kind of psychosis that deems other people as unreal and thus insignificant–it’s Gaara.

But the difference between Gaara’s madness and Shikako’s is that Gaara’s was done to him; by his father, by his village, by the demon sealed inside him. Shikako did it to herself.

Nara lose things when they use their shadows, but no Nara has ever become their shadow. And while their legendary founder was thought to control the night itself, no Nara had ever reached so far into the void as to become the night.

Shikako lost herself in that battle; sacrificed herself willingly and dispersed all she was into the dark of the night in order to save the people she loved. Every day, they have to deal with the consequences; every day, they have to watch the shell of her fail to be the person they know.

But every night, she comes back, a little at a time.

It may take months or years or even their entire lifetime for her to be fully restored.

Gaara can wait; the desert endures.


	10. Dreaming of S(erpents)

After Jiraiya, Shikako is the closest thing Konoha has to a seal master. It’s not a surprise, really–this fact has been brought up before on multiple occasions–but she’s never felt it so keenly as she does in the moment.

“You want me to… what?” Shikako stammers, her shoulders tensing with apprehension.

Anko’s unusually solemn gaze does not waver–Shikako wonders if it’d be less unnerving if the older woman had her trademark smirk.

“I-I don’t think I can do that,” she tries, before reconsidering: technically, she might have the ability. She’s just not sure if she’s allowed, “I mean, I don’t see what I can do that Jiraiya-sama couldn’t. And I don’t know if–”

“Kid,” Anko interrupts, before scowling, “Shikako,” she tries again, “I’m not expecting you to pull a miracle out of your ass and get this damned thing off me.”

Shikako’s face freezes, uncertain on how to proceed.

Anko snorts, a rueful grin on her face, “I know a little about seals myself, okay? I just want you to take a look, see what you can learn. With your teammate marked up, too, I figure you’ve got a stake in this.”

And it’s no secret that Shikako’s been formally, officially banned from examining Sasuke’s cursed seal.

But no one said anything about Anko’s.

Shikako straightens out from her hunch–not relaxed, but focused–her body a few steps ahead of her brain. Verbally, she dithers, “I’m not sure…”

But Anko pounces on the hesitation, “I’m not asking you to somehow be better than Jiraiya and that damned bastard. I’m asking you to be different. Just look at it. Please, Shikako.”

It really is a good opportunity. And Anko has already stated she’s not expecting any solutions or modifications. If anything, this is more of a favor to Shikako–she’s been itching to get a closer look at the cursed seal and even a prototype is better than nothing.

“Okay,” Shikako agrees. And then, because she will always be a lucky seven at heart, “What’s the worst that can happen?”

* * *

This.

This is the worst that can happen.

Shikako, standing in an impossible void, water up to her ankles and a giant white snake with Orochimaru’s face on it.

A part of her–a very tiny part, the smallest bit that isn’t reeling in confusion and horror or preoccupied with the flurry of escape and combat plans flickering in an out–can only sigh. She should’ve known. Orochimaru is a crazy, evil psychopath but he’s a genius for a reason.

And it probably didn’t help that she jinxed herself. She just didn’t expect to be pulled into some kind of mental space like Naruto does whenever he talks to Kyuubi.

The seal is on a complete different person, though, how does this even work?

She can ponder that later, this is very obviously not the time.

“The little Nara on Sasuke’s team,” the giant Orochimaru-faced snake says, it’s body uncoiling and slithering towards her. He… it… continues, “So you’ve managed to–”

And then the explosion.

Good news–seals somehow work in this mental space even though it may be the inside of a seal. She’d been worried about structural instability, one of the basic tenets of sealing, but she’d still done it; touch blast is a staple of her fighting style, after all.

Bad news–she’s going to need a whole lot more than a single touch blast to take down this fragment of Orochimaru.

Also, she’s made him… it… angry.

Very angry.

* * *

Normally alliances are a good thing, especially the one between the Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka. In fact, given their compatibility and foundation of friendship, the clan alliance has literally never been anything but a good thing. Not like weak flimsy false alliances that break or fester and fail.

But in this very specific, extremely particular case, maybe it’s not such a good thing.

Because being allies with the Akimichi and Yamanaka means that each clan can comfortably stay in their niches and trust each other to focus on their own specializations.

And that means Shikako has absolutely no idea how to handle herself in a mental battle. How the hell does Ino do this all the time?

She had always thought that the Yamanaka mind jutsu were similar to genjutsu–overlaying their own will and personality onto a person with copious amounts of chakra and finesse. Emphasis on the finesse.

If she had known that it was more like a telepathic caged grudge match, well. She’s always had great respect for the Yamanaka clan, but now she also has extreme fear. Also, bewilderment–how are they not all batshit insane?

And they don’t even have the benefit of seals like she does. Jutsu doesn’t work here, which means that all the Yamanaka have are their own mental representation of themselves.

Then again, most of them are up against normal humans and not freaky giant snakes with human heads.

Ino survived; she just has to hold onto that thought. Shikako may not have the same training in the Yamanaka mind arts, but she has seals and she’s up against an earlier version as well. She can survive, too.

* * *

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here. There is no sun or moon or sky, just Shikako and the Orochimaru-snake and the void. If it weren’t for the cuts and bruises on herself and the huge missing chunks of flesh on the Orochimaru-snake, she’d think she was stuck completely. Frozen in some monstrous tableau–like some kind of fairytale, a lone human trying to take on a dragon.

As it is, she thinks maybe she’s been doing this for days–weeks, months, and eternity. And she can’t help the chilling thought that she’s trapped herself into an infinite hell of some kind (sometimes Tsukuyomi still haunts her, when the sun sits red and heavy in the sky).

But as she’s about to set off yet another round of explosions–there are only so many strategies involving touch blast she can implement–she’s suddenly yanked back and up and, thankfully, out.

Her mind is shoved back into her body, the abruptness causing her to gasp. Then cough as she chokes on air.

Lungs, why this again?

A hand covered in the green glow of medical chakra is pressed over Shikako’s chest, but another hand bats it away.

“It’s just her body being stupid, Sakura” Ino says, angrily, pointedly, “because only an idiot would try to do what she did without having any training in mind jutsu,” but Ino’s hand, curled around Shikako’s wrist, is gentle and warm. Her brow is furrowed not with irritation, but concern.

Shikako is lying on her back, the prickle of grass uncomfortable on her neck. Kneeling on one side of her is Sakura, ignoring Ino’s reprimand and using a diagnostic jutsu on her, and on the other is Ino. Standing above them, with an expression muddled with guilt and relief, is Anko. Shikako can sense some other bright points of chakra–members of the kunoichi group, the older ones at least–just beyond her line of sight.

“Did you call everyone?” Shikako coughs out, because it’s one thing to fail utterly. It’s another to fail utterly in front of an audience.

Anko raises an eyebrow, “Well it was either them or the Hokage.” Which, point. Shikako isn’t exactly looking to get yelled at by Tsunade-sama for blatantly flouting proper procedure. Again.

And given Ino’s experience and Sakura’s apprenticeship, they are basically the most equipped to handle the situation, besides the Hokage, that is.

“I’m pretty sure we still need to tell shishou about this,” Sakura says, apologetic but firm.

* * *

(“And that’s the real reason why I’m here,” Shikako says, with a not quite obnoxious grin on her face.

Kankurou squints at her, suspicion etched into the line of his jaw, the tilt of his head, “You fought a giant imaginary snake and got assigned as the Suna ambassador… You’re fucking with me.”

She just grins wider.)


	11. Dreaming of S(peculation)

Strangely enough, the rumors originate not from Suna or Konoha, but from Kiri–specifically, with Mei Terumi. Of course, when asked about the matter, she will only smile and say, “A mere misunderstanding; I just wanted to prepare for my own possible political nuptials.” As she explains, she sends a wink towards Kakashi who is reluctantly acting as one of Tsunade’s guard.

Needless to say, this does not impress the Hokage’s other guard–but then again, Shikamaru’s brow has been stuck in a near permanent furrow for the past few months. Mostly, Tsunade brought him along for entertainment.

Both of them, actually. God knows she’s been needing something to laugh at. Having two people more stressed out about Shikako’s near engagement than her makes the situation less headache inducing.

At least Tsunade’s not dealing with the girl in question. Or her fellow catastrophic Lucky Sevens teammates.

Or her almost fiancé.

* * *

“This is unacceptable!” Councillor Odo shouts. Despite his seat being furthest from the corner of the hall Kankurou’s claimed, his voice is just shrill and put upon enough to cut through the distance. “We cannot have our Kazekage engaged to some… girl from Land of Fire! She’s not even of noble birth!”

While the other councillors are less vocal, most of them have expressions which make their similar lack of approval quite clear. But there are a fair few who don’t, a few who look almost… considering.

“Hey! What does a wrinkled old blowhard like you have to do with this? Who are you anyway? Shikako isn’t some girl! She’s amazing and way better than you’ll ever be!” Naruto shouts, bristling with anger, as if the world of politics were settled with volume and not finesse.

For obvious reasons, the position of Konoha’s ambassador to Suna had to be temporarily reassigned. Unfortunately, the only person both sides could agree on as a replacement was Naruto who… well… probably would never get this assignment ever again if the councillors had anything to say about it.

Kankurou does find this absolutely hilarious, though, because it’s not like he has to put up with the codgers that frequently. The only reason why he’s here is because he’s acting as–and this is the best part–Gaara’s guardian seeing as how Temari is away doing her job as Suna’s ambassador to Konoha and neither party of this alleged engagement is over the age of majority.

Old enough to kill for your country, and old enough to lead a village, but not old enough to decide who he can marry. Diplomatic marriages, who knew?

Gaara, for once in his reign as Kazekage refusing to be involved in the village’s political matters, spends the entirety of the discussion failing to hide his laughter.

* * *

In the mountains of the Land of Lightning, one very pissed off sword-wielding chuunin is slashing all of the training posts into pieces. The pieces of stone that fall are small enough to be considered pebbles.

Given that Netsui has literally only met Shikako Nara twice–once during their infuriating matchup in the Grass Chuunin Exams, and the second during an absolutely bizarre mission which she would like to cut out of her brain if necessary–it doesn’t make very much sense that she should care so much about hearsay on some stupid marriage. It’s not like that’ll affect either of their combat abilities so it shouldn’t matter. But Kumo has always been very… encouraging of their shinobi’s emotions and irritation at one’s self-appointed nemesis is close enough.

“You know you’re going to have to fix those before you leave, right?” Akantai says, and Netsui bites back the automatic growl because it’s not like there are many people lining up to talk to her even years after that shameful excuse for a fight.

“I will,” she grits out, because that’s all she can say before she goes on to hack away at the remaining two training posts. Of course, once that’s done now she has to talk.

“Is this about that Nara?” Akantai asks and that’s it. Netsui can’t even–

“Of course it’s about that damned Nara! Why is she even getting married now? That makes no sense! She’s not even in her prime yet, much less past it, and she’s going to ruin her career by shacking up with some guy and popping out babies? What?”

“Some guy… as in… the Kazekage?” Akantai says slowly, in disbelief.

“Whatever!” she shouts back, unappeased.

“Maybe they’re trying to make a new bloodline,” Akantai suggests, before making a quick jump back to dodge a swipe from Netsui’s sword.

“This is such bullshit!”

* * *

It is a very tense and awkward silence that greets Ino when she gracefully and subtly sneaks into the official meeting between Suna’s ambassador, the Nara family, and–for some reason–Sasuke.

She’s not surprised to see the scowl on Sasuke’s face, given his not so secret conflicted feelings for Shikako even to this day; but she’s not expecting the stiff, displeased smile on Yoshino-san’s face much less the mild frown on Shikaku-san’s which, for anyone else, would be scowls. Shikako’s exasperation and Temari’s barely hidden bewilderment, however, makes sense. This is practically an omiai–or the precursor to one–and Ino is more than happy to sit in and watch.

“Are you implying that my daughter somehow isn’t good enough to be engaged to your brother?” Yoshino asks, looking somehow more lethal in her pink yukata than Sasuke, brooding in the corner with his sword still strapped to his back and no less than twenty kunai in reach.

“Oh my god, kill me now, please,” Shikako mutters, face in her hands, no doubt absolutely embarrassed by everything about this situation.

Temari’s left eye twitches before she valiantly attempts to talk her way out of this verbal trap, “As my brother’s representative in both my capacity as Sunagakure’s ambassador and as the head of our family, I can say with utmost certainty that our reluctance in this engagement has nothing to do with Shikako as a person. Rather it’s more to do with–”

“She’s second in line in succession to the Nara Clan,” Shikaku-san adds, throwing fuel onto the fire that is Yoshino-san’s indignation.

“She’s also an extremely powerful shinobi,” Sasuke contributes, simultaneously messing with Shikako and being a faithful teammate.

“And very pretty,” Ino says, just because.

Shikako makes a noise not unlike Ino’s chameleon summons when they are particularly hungry and cranky.

“Yes?” Temari responds, confused, before glancing at Yoshino-san and repeating, more firmly, “Yes, she is. But the problem is that my brother hasn’t had any say in this engagement that appeared out of nowhere and, frankly, looking at Shikako it would seem like she hasn’t either.”

“No, I have not,” Shikako says definitively, which would have ended the topic of conversation and that just cannot be done.

Sasuke, Shikaku-san, and Temari all seem to be relaxing, which gives Yoshino-san the opportunity to say, “Which isn’t to say that she’s against such an engagement. Just that these matters ought to be handled in a more formal manner.”

Shikako sends a startled look to her mother.

Which then jerks immediately in Ino’s direction when she says, “The Yamanaka clan have very reputable matchmakers.”

* * *

It takes three months to put down the rumor of Shikako and Gaara’s whirlwind engagement. Though it still lingers and pops up every now and then–whispers of heated looks and midnight assignations spreading around the Elemental Nations.

Jiraiya writes a book based on it; it becomes a best-seller.


	12. Dreaming of S(uccess, the hollow hearted edition)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This one actually has no Gaara in it... I'm not sure why I made it part of this series...)

There is only one person that Shikako has ever honestly considered telling the truth about her past, but so long as he wears the Hokage’s hat she cannot:

Kakashi is the Rokudaime, an honor and responsibility that he never wanted but must dutifully serve until his successor is deemed ready. So long as he is the Hokage he cannot put his students’ lives above the rest of the village.

And so she does not tell him, even when her knowledge has stopped being relevant, even after all of the things she feared has been resolved and become the past twice over. She does not tell anyone.

Not until he passes down the hat.

* * *

Naruto, finally accepted by the village he calls home, stays and learns. Sasuke, chafing under the years of being protected with a short leash, requests missions with long durations in far off places.

Shikako chooses to wander the land–training trip or research trip or maybe even both, inheriting Jiraiya’s role as spymaster and fuinjutsu master and author (though her books are far less perverted in nature).

During war, Team Seven banded together to save the world. In peace, they spiral apart.

Perhaps one day they will be reunited, but there is very little that can stand up to one of them, much less requires all three, and so that day is far away.

* * *

There are marriages and children and entire lives being lived without her, and Shikako realizes, almost five months after her twentieth birthday, that this is basically the same thing that must have happened after whatever ripped her from her old world reincarnated her in this world.

Maybe her sister got married, maybe there is a niece or nephew in that old world that she has never met and will never meet. Or has time progressed even further–another generation on who wouldn’t even be told of their missing great aunt, much less care.

She doesn’t know if there’s a niece and nephew here, in this version of this world, that she hasn’t yet met.

She goes home immediately.

* * *

She regrets it almost immediately.

She’s grown beyond the shape she once carved herself into for their sakes, and now they no longer fit.

She doesn’t know if she means her brother, her team, or Konoha itself.

It’s stifling and bewildering, this place she once called home, this place she killed and died for. All of the changes like unfamiliar scars on people who she once would have said she knew better than anyone.

That is no longer the case.

Shikamaru has long since learned to be less protective of her–his twin his shadow his sister–but now he has a wife and child and somehow Shikako is no longer his. Sasuke has settled into his own skin, an identity she has never seen, a life she could have never predicted. Naruto is the hero grown, triumphant, successful; he does not need her to guide the way, to show him how to make dreams reality.

He’s already done so.

Naruto is no longer a boy hoping to be the Hokage.

He is the Hokage.

Which means Kakashi is not.

Once, he may have been the only person she ever considered telling the truth, but that was many years ago.

She has changed and so, too, has he.


	13. Dreaming of S(elfishness)

For most hidden villages, the line of succession for Kages is not explicitly a matter of bloodline. Kages are usually the strongest of the village, the one who can bolster the reputation of their village with their own. It is one way in Konoha–passed down between teachers and students and the students of students; another in Kiri–whoever can grab power and keep it long enough to claim the title Mizukage; with Kumo and Iwa being somewhere in between.

But the Kazekage? Has always been from the same bloodline, a family so strong and so ingrained in the very structure of Sunagakure that they don’t use a clan name.  They have no need for one. Instead, they are merely “of the desert,” a description so brazen that only the most powerful can claim it.

Except, with the recent birth of Shikadai Nara, that is no longer is the case.

While the councilors of Sunagakure were not exactly supportive of Temari’s choice in husband, no one would–or even really could–stand between a scion of the desert and what they want. For the most part, they stayed silent as she–the eldest child of the Yondaime Kazekage, the eldest sibling of the Godaime Kazekage, technical head of the bloodline–married into a Konoha clan.

But now?

If something unfortunate should happen to Gaara–a thought not so unbelievable after the absolute chaos of Akatsuki and Kaguya–and that something happened to Kankurou as well, then that would leave Shikadai Nara as the only viable candidate for Rokudaime Kazekage.

A Leaf nin. As Kazekage.

Such a thing cannot be allowed.

* * *

Shikako has not been the official Suna ambassador for years–it’s a role below her rank and skills and, frankly? As Konoha’s undisputed expert in fuinjutsu, her time can be better spent on other matters.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t visit occasionally. Suna and Konoha are allies, after all, and it is good that their shinobi maintain close ties.

Of course, not as close as Temari and Shikamaru, but unlike her brother she never dreamed about settling down with a family. Never wanted marriage–that single moment’s vow shackling her to a lifelong commitment.

People change, she knows that more than most. It doesn’t matter how or even how much they feel now, that doesn’t mean a relationship will stay strong. And forcing a promise won’t make it better, won’t make it longer.

But still, she goes to Suna, because she wants to enjoy it while it lasts.

* * *

Kankurou meets her at the gates, something he hasn’t done in years–not since her first official arrival to Suna–and he can feel his makeup cracking around a grimace.

“What’s wrong?” Sparky asks, and god what isn’t? He hates that he’s the bearer of bad news, but Gaara won’t do it and Kankurou owes her this much at least.

“Is it the council again?” she guesses, not knowing how on the nose she is. He’d laugh if it weren’t so horrible.

“It’s Gaara,” he says instead, watches her face turn pale even in the desert heat, eyes widening with panic and worry. Shit, he didn’t mean it like that, “He’s not hurt or anything like that,” he amends, hurriedly.

“Oh,” she exhales, relieved.

“He’s engaged,” Kankurou says, watching her expression turn confused.

“… in combat?” she asks, hesitantly, the truth failing to sink in.

This is the worst, “To be married,” he says. Then, just to make sure she understands he adds, “His betrothed is Hakuto of the Houki family.”

* * *

For the first time ever, Ebizo-jiisama offers to pay for the night’s drinks. Shikako takes him up on it. Kankurou tries to as well, but the old man smacks him upside the head and makes him pay for his own. Just as well, it’s not like he’s expecting to drink much–definitely not as much as Shikako.

It’s a miserable echo of their previous nights out, no Chiyo-baasama to lift their spirits, and Shikako still shocked and sullen from the news. The bartender doesn’t even have to summon the bouncer, or more help on top of that.

Not that Gaara would even come.

“He’s probably too busy with his fiancee,” Shikako grumbles into her sake. Kankurou and Ebizo-jiisama, lifelong bachelors, glance at each other nervously, unsure how to proceed.

The bartender snorts and rolls his eyes. Unruly shinobi? No thank you. But someone trying to drink their heartbreak away? That he can handle.

* * *

The problem isn’t that she’s jealous or angry. She understands, really. This thing between them has never been more important than their duties to their respective villages.

Gaara is Kazekage, he has to put Suna first, certainly above a single Leaf kunoichi’s feelings–and a Nara at that. The Nara have already lay claim to one of the Kazekage bloodline, that’s what instigated this whole arrangement.

She’s just a little disappointed he didn’t even try to fight it. She’s definitely upset that he didn’t tell her himself.

But why bother taking five minutes out of your day to break up with your scarred and dusty ex when you can spend hours talking to your beautiful and elegant fiancee?

Okay, maybe she’s a little bit jealous… And a lot angry; but not at Gaara, and not at Hakuto, either. No, she’s angry at herself.

* * *

And then there’s an attack. And then Hakuto is kidnapped. And then Gaara tries to rescue her himself.

But just because Shikako is upset with him, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have his back. So of course she goes, too.

That’s when things get… weird.

* * *

Except it turns out all of this was some stupid scheming by Councilor Tojuro, trying to enact a coup and she has an entirely deserving target for her anger. She lived through Danzo’s bullshit, she’s not going to suffer through this rank amateur.

But Kankurou, Baki, and, oddly enough, Councilor Odo of all people have the matter settled quickly enough–just as well, it wouldn’t do to have a mere Leaf kunoichi butting in on Suna matters.

Gaara and Shikako return to the village: the former sans fiancee, and the latter, bewilderingly, with two new adopted clan members.

Outside of battle they are once more uneasy with each other. Even though Hakuto has been removed from the equation, doesn’t mean the problem has been solved. The council will still want Gaara to get married and have children, and Gaara will still have to prioritize Sunagakure above her–above them.

Shikako understands, has always understood. But she doesn’t think she can handle this a second time, can’t rekindle their relationship only for it to be snuffed out as soon as another betrothal is announced.

“So,” she supposes, uncertain in the face of Gaara’s reticence, “This is it then,” she says.

He doesn’t respond except for a steady stare. She wants to scream at him to say something, anything, but that’s not who they are. The silence is damning.

She turns to go, shaking off the hesitant tendril of sand trying to loop around her wrist. He had his chance.

* * *

Bizarrely, it’s Ebizo-jiisama–who normally couldn’t care less about her and Gaara’s relationship–that gets her to reconsider.

“The engagement really was meant to be a recompense for turning him into a jinchuuriki,” Ebizo-jiisama says, not quite remorseful, but nowhere near as jocular as he usual.

Shikako says nothing.

“Damn short sighted of them,” he continues, “You, too,” he adds, which is pointed enough for her to bite back.

“What are you talking about?”

“There’s more than just two options,” he lectures, as if this were just another game of Igo, “Don’t need a wife for kids, don’t need a marriage to be happy.”

Shikako turns back.

* * *

“I won’t stay,” she says, because she won’t make promises she can’t keep.

“I will,” he says, which is more than enough.


	14. Dreaming of S(haring the World)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (future fic featuring the next generation sand siblings)

Shikako doesn't notice him at first. Just another face in the crowd of children that flock to her even here in the Ikioi-En; small and eager and easily pleased.

Though he is the smallest and youngest of the group; the most eager to try and help her even after her shadow puppet show is over and his peers drift away.

She doesn't think he can read yet, much less understand the fuinjutsu of a long dead ancient civilization, but it helps to think aloud while analyzing the recovered chunks of Gelel shrine rubble and, unlike the Sand researcher assigned alongside her for this joint-village mission, he does honestly seem happy to just listen to her talk.

Then again, she treats him to dinner whenever she realizes hours have already passed, sky growing dark, and he has a soba addiction nearly as bad as Naruto's obsession with ramen.

She should have realized there was more to it than that.

* * *

_(He remembers his first Father a little bit: a large man with gentle hands who tried his best, despite the disease plaguing him. The illness making movement and speech and, eventually, thinking difficult._

_It's why they had moved to the Ikioi-En, hoping the healing springs would cure him. But it didn't. Instead it left Araya alone, surrounded by strangers who didn't care._

_He doesn't remember his first Mother at all.)_

* * *

One day, her littlest fan doesn't show up.

She notices immediately.

She doesn't think it's vanity when, after a few hours of distraction and concern, she goes to find him. She knows it's not when the endeavor turns out to be more difficult than expected, worryingly so.

"His name is Araya, he's four maybe five years old? Brown hair, green eyes. We eat here like, at least twice a week." She says to the woman at the soba stand, whose interest waned as soon as it became clear that Shikako wasn't planning on buying anything.

"Then shouldn't you know where he is?" She asks, apathetic but not cruel.

Not wrong, either, but Shikako doesn't appreciate the thought when she's going out of her mind with worry.

Desperate, she unfurls her chakra sense as far as it can go, even though being so close to where the Gelel shrine used to be and the resulting healing springs is like trying to listen through white noise.

Araya is young, not much chakra to speak of, but familiar after so many weeks researching in the Ikioi-En. The smooth surface of porcelain and polished wood, subtle and beautiful.

She finds it, small and wavering and feverish, surrounded by other signatures which feel sickly, too. She runs, as fast as she can--uses shunshin when that proves to be too slow--and barely skids to a stop in front of a small clinic, one of many that have cropped up around the healing springs.

The medic startles, goes for a kunai--the Ikioi-En is almost an off-shoot of Sand, the healing springs and attached clinics shinobi-monitored if not outrightly controlled--but relaxes when he notices who she is. She's the only Konoha shinobi here not on medical leave, and somewhat famous besides.

"Araya?" she asks, too keyed up to ask a proper question, honing in on his chakra flickering ever so precariously like a candle in the wind.

The medic rolls his eyes, beckons her to follow him to the back where, on one of the cots, Araya is curled up. Shikako drops to the floor next to it, hands glowing green with a diagnostic jutsu.

"It's just a cold," the medic says, "He probably caught it from one of our other patients. He'll be fine in a few days."

Her jutsu tells her the same, but she still keeps a hand on Araya's hot and clammy forehead. He leans into it, no doubt seeking some relief against the fever.

"It's gonna be annoying taking care of him, though," the medic mutters, loud enough for Shikako to hear him and shoot a glare in his direction.

"Isn't that your job?" she grits through her teeth.

He looks far less intimidated than she'd prefer. "No. I run a clinic, not an orphanage."

Immediately the fight goes out of her--that answers her other question.

* * *

_(Araya wears a mask, feels more comfortable with a barrier between him and the rest of the world. Likes knowing that something as basic as his appearance is a secret for him and his family._

_He also likes how all it takes to disappear in the village is to remove it. Easily becoming just another face in the crowd, a stranger nobody can find._

_Except for Mother.)_

* * *

The next couple of days Shikako takes off from researching--she's ranking leader on this mission, she's allowed to do that; and even if she wasn't allowed, she'd do it anyway--and spends it watching over Araya.

They're kicked out of the clinic on the second day--the medic none too happy with her loitering. Thankfully, the inn that she's been staying at provides an extra futon when she asks; the owner also allows Shikako use of the kitchen.

It takes four days for his fever to break, her journals and errant thoughts keeping her company until then. She plans then hesitates, writes letters that she doesn't send.

Shikako has never thought of herself as particularly maternal. Taking care of people is a necessity not something that gives her enjoyment. But Araya is all alone in the world, and when has she ever let that stand?

When he's awake and lucid, she asks him a very important question. He says yes--eager and easily pleased.

When he's well enough to travel, they go to Sand to make it official.

* * *

_(He's been with Mother and Father for long enough that he barely thinks about his early years. It's mostly a distant memory, but something he can remind himself of easily by simply looking in a mirror and unmasking himself._

_Mother found some information about his first Father, and every year on the day he passed they light a stick of incense for him._

_He's no longer hungry and alone and constantly sad. There's so much life around him now, noise and smiles and gentle touches. Araya is happy being a part of this family, and he thinks his first Father would be happy for him, too.)_

* * *

* * *

Gaara isn't often called in to deal with matters from the Engineering Department. Except for approving or vetoing certain village-sized projects, he doesn't have much to do with them outside of paperwork.

Certainly not in person. Not anymore.

After the first incident--in which he was called in at three in the morning and all he did was stand around looking imposing as two engineers yelled, fought, cried on each other, then came to an agreement in the span of two hours. True, that first incident led to the village's first successful hydroponics program, and later aquaponics program, but not as a result of anything Gaara himself did--he's learned to use proxies since then.

But the young engineer standing in front of him looks like he won't accept a proxy or no for an answer. Even if he's nervously curling into himself.

Gaara doesn't take offense. If he's remembering correctly, this is one of the recent genin graduates. The one who had been slated for the Puppet Corps until Kankurou found out that he'd rather make puppets than fight with them, and so had shunted him into Engineering where he'd be happier surrounded by machines than people.

"Fukiya, correct?" Gaara asks, smiling to himself when the genin straightens at his name.

"Yes, Kazekage-sama!" Fukiya says, bows low, straightens back up, all in one enthusiastic movement.

"And you're sure this isn't just Yokume and Gosan arguing again?" He asks, just to confirm. He's already standing away from his desk, gesturing for Fukiya to lead the way. Jinzo only raises his eyebrows instead of squinting angrily, so Gaara knows he's not scheduled for anything else at the moment.

"Not this time, Kazekage-sama," Fukiya says, sounding far less nervous the deeper into the building they go. The Engineering Department is underground. Deep underground.

"Was Baki unavailable?" It's not that Gaara is trying to get out of it--he likes being involved in his village--but this is an unusual situation.

"We already called Baki-sama, Kazekage-sama, and he's actually there now. But he said to go get you, Kazekage-sama."

An unusual situation indeed.

They come to a stop outside a set of massive double doors. Fukiya glances around, looks sheepish when he catches Gaara's eye, then enters a series of numbers into the keypad. A much smaller door opens up for them to enter through.

The first thing Gaara sees is Baki's face, smirking. Then is Yokume and Gosan, eagerly shouting upwards. When he follows their line of sight, he sees a massive orb made of metal and glass...

... and what looks to be a small child inside it, happily fiddling with the wires of what he knows to be the Engineering Department's ultimate pet project.

* * *

_(Yodo doesn't remember her biological parents and she doesn't really care. As far as she's concerned, they didn't want her, so she doesn't want them._

_She doesn't need them, either. She didn't need them before, when she was just one of many Suna orphans running around the village, and she definitely doesn't need them now that she has a family that loves her and actually wants her._

_And plus, Father is the Kazekage and Mother is one of the most badass people in the world--Yodo's not even exaggerating. Why would she care about some random strangers she's never even met?)_

* * *

The child is five years old, unbelievably smart, and--according to the engineers on the night shift--a stealth prodigy. Gaara will believe the first two, but given the way the little girl knows some of the engineers by name, he's highly skeptical of the last one.

Both Yokume and Gosan are on the verge of tears, which isn't an atypical state of being for them. But usually it's over non-human matters.

"You can't have a five year old working for the Engineering Department," Gaara says, choosing to be the voice of reason here.

"Can she even read?" Baki asks, looking far too amused by the situation.

"I can hear just fine," the little girl says, dangling from the catwalk, knees hooked around the railing.

She seems confident in her stability, but Gaara would rather not risk it. He sends a platform of sand up towards her and, after a couple of curious nudges, she switches perches.

"And I can read..." she continues, voice high and piping and offended.

"... most things," she admits in a mutter after a moment's silence, sand platform bringing her closer. "Math is easier, okay?"

Baki snorts.

Yokume and Gosan check on the orb, simultaneously gushing and arguing about the changes the child has made while Fukiya trails after them like an eager student.

"What's your name?" Gaara asks, because for all that she knows the night shift engineer's names, they don't seem to know hers.

She seems to be content on the platform, even though it's hovering close enough to the ground that she could disembark if she wanted to. She doesn't answer for a moment, busy testing the pliability of the sand--it's as pliable as he wills it to be. He lets her shape it as she wants and holds it still when she decides she's satisfied with it. She appears to be building a model of Suna.

"The matron at the orphanage use to call me Yodo," she says finally, possibly unused to someone patiently waiting for her to answer.

"Used to?"

Yodo wrinkles her nose in disgust, "I don't go there anymore. Too many voices, it's annoying. I come here instead."

Gaara can feel his brow furrowing in confusion, hopes it doesn't come off as irritated. His people are no longer scared of him, but he knows he's still an intimidating figure. "For how long?"

Yodo huffs, as if she's the one who should be annoyed by all these questions, "Almost four days," she says.

Which isn't as long as Gaara had feared, but definitely long enough that this should have been brought to someone's attention earlier. Either as a missing child's case or as an intruder in the Engineering Department--four days is too long.

"You're not going to make me go back, are you?" Yodo asks him, blue eyes wide and staring into his.

Gaara doesn't know what his face looks like now, but whatever it is, it makes Baki actually, audibly laugh.

* * *

_(The Council talks about her as Father's successor as if it's a position she should be honored to have, instead of something they're trying to force onto her._

_She doesn't know why they even think she'd want it--but then again, the only council member she's ever spoken to is Councilor Odo who still thinks Mother is some kind of interloper or the most conspicuous spy ever._

_She understands their reasoning, at least: Yodo may not be one by blood, but she's still a scion of the desert. They don't want her to end up like Temari-oba, married away in a different land and essentially lost to Suna._

_No, Yodo doesn't want to be Kazekage. But in this matter, she keeps quiet. As soon as she rejects it, they'll turn to Shinki; and for all that he thinks he should be the next Kazekage, Yodo doesn't think he actually wants to be, either._

_Yodo can be a good sister.)_

* * *

Yodo concedes to leave the Engineering workshop only when Gaara promises not to bring her back to the orphanage. She also demands dango, but after two years of raising a child, he knows better than to give her sweets without any substantial food to temper it.

They agree on takoyaki, which Yodo deems similar enough in shape to dango as to be acceptable, and which Gaara knows won't lead to a sugar high and crash.

Between the Engineering Department and his office, Yodo sneaks her hand into his. He looks at her in surprise--it took Araya nearly a year to feel comfortable enough with him to do the same--and she begins to withdraw it, but he curls his fingers around hers and she smiles brightly up at him.

They pass by others at work. The administrative building is quite large, houses other departments besides Engineering, and someone must have sent word ahead because Jinzo is waiting for the two of them in Gaara's office with a familiar looking set of forms.

"Another one?" he asks, almost as amused as Baki had been.

Gaara shrugs because he has no argument. Has nothing he’d want to argue against.  
"Shall I have a runner go fetch Nara-san and Araya?" Jinzo asks, already flaring his chakra to summon one of the genin whose sole purpose is to do whatever he tells them apparently.

"And dango!" Yodo says, swinging their conjoined hands.

"Takoyaki," Gaara corrects, considers for a moment, "And maybe some dango, too."

Yodo cheers while Jinzo sends a second runner for the food and a third to prepare some drinks.

Gaara goes to sit at his desk. Rather than sit at the more comfortable couch, Yodo clambers onto the desk--taking care to avoid touching any of the paperwork, while she turns her head this way and that.

"Will this let me work in the Engineering Department?" Yodo asks, watching him write her name but not understanding the rest.

"One day, if you still want to, then you can," Gaara answers, filling in the rest of the forms--his name, Shikako's name, Yodo's again. "This means that, if you want, you never have to go back to the orphanage."

She looks up at him and in her eyes he sees maybe something like hope.

* * *

_(Yodo thinks in terms of music. In tone and rhythm, tempo and frequency. She thinks of melodies and harmonies, instruments and voices fitting together into one cohesive song._

_Machines are like that, too. Different components coming together to make something better and stronger than they are alone._

_Sometimes there are problems--sometimes gears shift out of place and software doesn't match up. Sometimes the drums go too fast and the strings screech instead of hum--but they can be troubleshot, they can be fixed. Music and creation and life are always open to additions and adjustments._

_This is what family means to her.)_

* * *

* * *

Kankurou will never say this out loud--and definitely not where Temari might hear him--but this is all her fault. (No, really.)

See, if she hadn't faffed off to Leaf in order to marry into some other clan instead of telling that sleepy-eyed weirdo to marry into their clan then he and Gaara wouldn't have been left trying to figure out what the hell to do when someone randomly tells them that hey, one of your ancestors somewhere along the line apparently had an illegitimate child, because we've found a kid who can use Magnet Release. Also, he's an orphan--have fun dealing with this!

Technically, it should be Kankurou's responsibility given that he's older and clan leadership is passed down in birth order. But they're called the Kazekage clan after all, and, well, Gaara is the Kazekage. It only makes sense for Kankurou to let the more qualified brother handle it.

And it's not like Kankurou's the one adopting an army of small children. (To be fair, there's only two of them and Araya is a fairly mellow kid. Yodo's the one who could put the entire Puppet Corps through the wringer, especially when she's high on sugar from whatever sweets given to her by a certain someone who shall remain nameless. It would've been hilarious... if he hadn't been tapped for babysitting duties that same day and realized he stabbed himself in the foot.)

So passing the buck it is.

He at least goes to pick up the kid--because Gaara does have an entire hidden village to run and, admittedly, Kankurou will be this kid's clan head even if he won't be this kid's Father (the very idea of it makes him shudder; ugh, fatherhood, he can barely stand being an uncle)--and takes a nice, quiet solo journey to some tiny town in the middle of nowhere.

Gaara did offer to send some chuunin with him, but like hell was Kankurou going to put up with a bunch of brats just to pick up another brat. Never mind that most chuunin are about his age or even older. (And plus, it gives him some time to work on his playwriting without wind of it getting back to Sparky.)

He kinda has an idea of what he's expecting of the kid--even though, beyond him having Magnet Release and being an orphan, the report didn't include much. Not even a name which, what the hell, he's going to bust someone's balls for this. He doesn't approve of shoddy work when it means he's going into a situation blind. (Been there, done that, got the irritating friendships with Leaf nin to prove it.)

As it is, he ends up being completely wrong and, somehow, spot on. He maybe should have made Gaara come--or Sparky, even, given that despite having no blood relation and not even having met each other yet, this kid would fit in perfectly with her horde of hell-raisers. How someone could get into so much trouble in the boondocks is beyond him--but hell if Kankurou isn't a little bit impressed.

* * *

_(Shinki doesn't mean for bad things to happen to the people around him, they just do. His first Mother had said that the things he could do weren't bad, just powerful; all he had to do was learn how to control them._

_But even with her own talents with metal--hidden in plain sight as the town's blacksmith--she still looked at his ability with wariness and no small amount of fear._

_He can't remember what happened to his biological father, only that he disappeared one day and never came back._

_That's what Shinki used to think, anyway.)_

* * *

The kid is nine years old and if Kankurou hadn't grown up with the poster child for stoicism, he'd admit that the kid's got a pretty good poker face. As it is, he can tell the kid's about as nervous as Sparky in front of an audience older than Academy age--and, also, hiding something.

But despite being admittedly nosy, Kankurou stays silent on that matter; because he knows what subtlety is, unlike some people.

The shinobi dispatched from the nearest outpost meets Kankurou in the village and gives a rundown of the situation which for some reason wasn't included in the original report.

"Bandits, most likely," the chuunin says with a shrug, not bothering to temper his volume. Normally, surrounded by civilians, it wouldn't matter, but from the small twitches on the kid's face Kankurou can tell, even without the clan blood limit, he's not just a normal civilian. "Tried to ransack the blacksmith's shop, maybe to get supplies, and didn't realize she was still in the forge. She put up a hell of a fight, though."

Ah, shit. Poor kid, being forced to relive his mother's last moments from the voice of an disinterested chuunin. But pity never helped anyone.

"Bandits?" Kankurou barks at the chuunin instead, edging it in a way that he usually doesn't. Pity doesn't help, but anger can, "This area is part of your outpost's territory isn't it? Were you just letting them run rampant?"

The chuunin straightens up at attention, suddenly faced with a superior officer not just a fellow shinobi. "No, sir. I mean, yes sir--I mean."

"Spit it out," Kankurou says, maybe amping it up because it's possible there's the smallest hint of a smile on the kid's face.

"We've been gathering intel on them, trying to triangulate their base of operations. It wasn't until the attack yesterday that we got enough to pinpoint it. We were going to do some more recon before requesting a team. But the, uh, witness seemed like a more important matter," the chuunin reports, belatedly adding, "sir."

"A team?" Kankurou scoffs, he's a puppeteer--The Puppeteer what with being head of the corps, now--he's basically a team all by himself. And besides, "Why do you need a team when you've got two scions of the desert?" he asks the chuunin, then nods in the kid's direction, "Hey brat, you interested in getting revenge?"

What? Kankurou never said he was good with kids.

* * *

_(A part of Shinki used to think that becoming a shinobi was inevitable. That even his first Mother knew it, too, despite not sending him to Suna when he turned six._

_She had taught him what tricks she had learned from her own mother, and other things she had picked up or made up along the way. She had taught him about weapons and about tools, about the difference and similarities between them. About how neither could harm him--not so long as they were made of metal and sang like adrenaline in his blood._

_He thinks she was preparing him for a future without her. He's never sure whether or not he should be grateful for that.)_

* * *

The bandits are a bunch of clichés--a group of twenty or so men all unwashed and rowdy, hiding in a cave. Kankurou is honestly a little embarrassed on their behalves. Or, you know, he would be if they weren't the assholes responsible for murdering an unknown clan member and leaving the kid--Shinki, as he had huffed in response to being called brat--orphaned.

Okay, maybe Kankurou got a little attached. But he's a good kid; keeping pace and falling in line and not at all rebelling and pulling some kind of bullshit impossible plan from out of nowhere that somehow miraculously works. (No doubt Sparky will ruin that given a few months, but he can appreciate it while it lasts.)

They meet up with another chuunin not far from the cave--who startles at seeing the head of the Puppet Corps and a nine year old accompanying his teammate, but maintains a sense of professionalism nonetheless.

"There's two exits--this one's the main one, big enough for horses and a cart, though I've only spotted two so far. The other one is around the southeast side of the mountain, pretty narrow, almost missed it, probably an emergency escape route."

Unfortunately, cliché and filthy didn't mean stupid.

"You two stay here, wait for the signal before you join us," Kankurou says, "Us two will go through the other entrance. Catch them off guard, make sure none of them get away."

"Uh, sir?" asks the first chuunin, nervously, "What's the signal?"

Kankurou barely manages not to roll his eyes. Shinki and the other chuunin don't bother refraining.

"The sounds of screaming, probably" Kankurou says deadpan, enjoying the way the chuunin flinches.

"Let's go, kid," he continues, before they waste more time on inanities.

The emergency exit is narrow enough that the three of them--Karasu included--have to go single file. The few traps are easily disarmed and Shinki's silent nature thankfully extends to stealth.

Somehow, even though he's on Kankurou's six, the kid spots the bandits first.

Well, a specific bandit.

"That's him," Shinki murmurs, angry but still quiet, not stupid enough to give away their position.

Kankurou doesn't need clarification--given the bandages hastily wrapped around the bandit's torso and beginning to bleed through red, it's obvious who he is.

"Stay here, kid. Any of them slip past me, you take them down, okay?" Like that'll happen--Kankurou's been too well trained (tortured by that old hag, more like)--but the kid doesn't know that. "Let's go sound that signal, then."

Of course, Kankurou probably should have figured that the kid's obedience would run dry at some point, because after only about ten minutes of fighting--most of the bandits incapacitated one way or another--he finds the kid standing over the prone body of a bandit. The specific bandit.

The kid's shaking, the man is talking, and that's never boded well.

"... I knew it. Should have known as soon as your mother brought you screaming into the world. Go on, demon, prove me right," the bandit says, a sneer on his face for all that he's the one at a disadvantage.

The kid has somehow ended up with a sword--poor quality, probably the bandit's own weapon--but he shakes like he's the one whose life is in danger.

"I-I c-can't do it," Shinki says, "I can't."

Kankurou sighs, waves Karasu closer to loom over the bandit who is finally beginning to look afraid. He puts his other hand on Shinki's shoulder, turns him around. "Don't look, kid."

Shinki closes his eyes, presses close, and doesn't look.

Neither of them mention it again.

* * *

_(Sometimes, Shinki wishes his first Mother were still alive. Not that he prefers her over Mother--no, he loves this new family fiercely, wouldn't trade them for the world. Even when he and Araya don't quite understand each other, or he and Yodo get on each others' nerves._

_Sometimes, he wishes she hadn't been afraid. Wishes that she had taken the chance to reach out, to be a part of this family._

_He thinks she would have loved them, too.)_


	15. Dreaming of S(atisfaction)

Without the sun, the desert is cold at night.

In the morning they’d wake with legs intertwined. Blankets twisted and tangled around them both, as if, in sleep, they try to tie themselves together.

Don’t leave, their limbs say, when their mouths stay closed.

But the sun brings light, and with it heat and work.

They unravel back into two, patiently waiting until the cold returns.

* * *

Tea is different in the Land of Wind, spicier and darker than what she grew up on.

In the Kazekage’s office, when she asks for it diluted, Jinzo admonishes, “Like a child.”

She blushes every time, embarrassment painted on her cheeks.

But at home, Gaara steeps her cup for less time than his, and includes a small creamer jug of milk though, no doubt, the practice must seem bizarre.

In exchange, she makes sure the snacks that accompany their tea aren’t all sweets.

* * *

It starts with a drawer, filled with some things. Extra sets of clothes, a journal, some pens she’s left behind.

Then a shelf for the knickknacks she’s picked up over time, a sparse collection bracketed by scrolls and books.

She has Hammerspace, but it just makes sense to leave some things out: an extra toothbrush and a small dish of stray hair pins in the bathroom, a sturdy cup that she liked the look and feel of in the kitchen, a blanket in familiar Nara green draped over the back of the couch.

She has more than just one drawer, now.

* * *

The market place is where most of the culture shock happens, though it’s hardly a bad thing.

The smallest things will catch her attention, and the merchants are more than willing to indulge questions. Surprisingly, it’s not even because those questions are almost always accompanied with purchase.

She has long since stopped being intruder, turned into guest. And maybe, one day, a resident.

When she comes to Sand, she doesn’t stay at an inn anymore.

* * *

It becomes a routine, to drop in on Gaara at the office at least once throughout the day, never mind that she doesn’t always have an official reason to be there.

Mostly, her visits are quick things, a couple minutes squeezed in between meetings, Jinzo eyeing her with scrutiny.

She knows he’s busy, doesn’t want to take up too much time, but she thinks he appreciates it when she shows up.

* * *

Gaara invites her to dinner, unusual but far from unwanted. Normally, she’d have an Akimichi’s suggestion on which restaurants are good, but that’s not really an option here.

Kankurou snorts when she tells him, rolls his eyes and mutters about oblivious Leaf nin; he doesn’t explain.

Oh, she thinks, a few hours later, seated across from Gaara and strenuously ignoring all the stares from the other patrons.

She would’ve preferred a heads up, but the evening isn’t entirely awkward after her realization.

* * *

Shikako looks at the Village Hidden in the Sand and thinks: It’s not home… 

… but it could be.


	16. Dreaming of S(eparation)

Shikako gets back to Konoha and feels like she’s drowning.

In comparison to Sand, Konoha is absolutely drenched, the humidity weighing down on her shoulders, in her lungs.

She wonders when that stopped feeling normal.

* * *

Home is not really home anymore, her bedroom long since handed down, and her things packed away into Hammerspace.

She still visits, of course, but visiting is not the same as inhabiting.

Home is where the heart is, and her family is only a part of it.

* * *

Shikamaru and Temari live in a different house, separate but not so far away–it will, after all, be the clan head’s home one day, and both the current and future houses are strategically in the center of the clan’s property.

She brings gifts, and news from Sand, an afternoon for Temari to soothe her homesickness.

She wonders if she’s looking at a reverse reflection, a mirror of her future.

* * *

“I’m happy for you,” Naruto says, when they meet up at Ichiraku’s for dinner.

She is mid-slurp, mouth full of noodles, and cannot respond.

“I’ll miss you,” he continues, blue eyes earnest and more observant than he’s given credit for, “But I’m glad that the both of you have each other.”

* * *

It’s not Sasuke that she speaks to, but ANBU Ram, ceramic mask, hooded cloak, and shroud of silence.

Emotions have never really been Sasuke’s strong suit, and if he needs the distance then she’ll let him have it.

Besides, the agitated flow of his chakra is easy enough for her to understand.

* * *

The Hokage doesn’t have normal working hours, on call at all times, but Kakashi-sensei was always more of a night owl: though it’s passed midnight, she knows he’s still in his office.

He smiles at her knowingly and almost proud, in a wistful way, as she explains to him her plans for the future.

“I’m pretty sure only a Daimyo or Kage has the authority to perform a marriage ceremony for another Kage,” he says to her, after, “I offer my services in case you do decide to make it official.”

* * *

Forest for desert, trees for sand.

It shouldn’t mean much–she’ll still be on the road for the most part, wandering between ruins of worlds long gone–but her lodestar has changed.

Home is where the heart is, and despite it all, her heart is only partially in Konoha.


	17. Dreaming of S(oulmates)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikako/Gaara in nine different soulmate AUs

**_one: red string of fate_ **

It’s a good thing soulmates are the only one who can see their shared string, Shikako thinks, staring blankly at the ethereal red thread tied around her pinky.

Otherwise, it’d be such a point of weakness for any shinobi.

“Soulmate,” says Gaara, voice raspy but still perfectly audible–of course, she sighs internally, ignoring the gasps around her, it only works if the soulmates keep quiet about it.

* * *

**_two: inkblot skin_ **

Shikamaru is the first to see it–actually, for nearly a decade, he is the only one to see it–the dark ink on his sister’s face where before there was empty skin.

They are young, but not so young as to be naive.

From then on, both Nara twins wear headbands on their brows: one out of solidarity, one to hide love.

* * *

**_three: shared dreams_ **

Perhaps they did, when they were children, but childhood dreams are easily forgotten after time and tragedy.

Gaara doesn’t sleep, and so he doesn’t dream.

For many years Shikako just assumes she doesn’t have a soulmate.

* * *

**_four: death clock_ **

She chose the path of the ninja because there was no other choice–Shikako could never abandon her friends, her family, to the fate that loomed ahead.

(And also, maybe, because the timer on her arm only had a decade left; her soulmate had to be a ninja, too.)

Gaara’s timer had always been at zero.

* * *

**_five: shared injuries_ **

Gaara knows pain: it’s followed him ever since he could remember, even if it’s never been firsthand. Rebellious chakra system to small scrapes and bruises, his soulmate’s medical history blossoming onto his own flesh.

Sasuke’s chidori breaks through the shell of sand; in the audience Shikako starts bleeding.

* * *

**_six: colorful eyes_ **

Shikako can’t see shades of green.

Ino thinks she’s lucky, having a soulmate with such a beautiful eye color, but it’s pretty inconvenient considering they live in a forest.

… Almost as inconvenient as living in a desert and not being able to see shades of brown.

* * *

**_seven: first words_ **

“It was just a misunderstanding. It was nice to meet you,” says the soul mark around Gaara’s bicep in hasty, slanted letters.

What mild words from the soulmate of a monster.

* * *

**_eight: polygraph skin_ **

“I’m sorry for any trouble he caused,” an obvious lie, given Gaara’s complete lack of interest.

Elsewhere and elsewhen, Shikako would let it go, give a platitude of her own, and get the hell out of range–but here and now, his words are accompanied by a stinging sensation and the appearance of neat, blocky writing on the back of her hand.

“No you’re not,” she blurts out, less confrontational and more absolutely baffled.

* * *

**_nine: countdown to contact_ **

The Nara twins grow up knowing that they’ll meet their soulmates within days of each other, probably when they’re genin.

The Sand Siblings grow up knowing the same.

Too bad they’re on opposite sides of an invasion when it happens.


End file.
